


The Rhythm of the Wide Unknown

by cacoethes79 (FaeryQueen07)



Series: Forty Six and 2 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Transgender, Transsexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryQueen07/pseuds/cacoethes79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles, well, now that he’s a bit more comfortable with it, he hesitates only for a fraction of a second before he shuffles forward on his knees. He straddles Derek’s chest, weight precariously balanced as he braces himself against the headboard with both hands.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rhythm of the Wide Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> This is that ficlet that's completely about the porn. There was no other reason behind my writing it than to write smut. The title of this coda is from Audiafauna’s Dress Me.

“Up,” Derek says, and even though he’s not using his Alpha Voice, Stiles feels compelled to move.

It’s taken nearly two months for this not be awkward, for Stiles not to want to press his thighs together in late-blooming embarrassment. And even though he’s mostly gotten past the mental roadblock, it still feels a little strange doing this. It feels good too, though, in a weird, I’m-not-sure-if-I-should-like-this kind of way. And Stiles, well, now that he’s a bit more comfortable with it, he hesitates only for a fraction of a second before he shuffles forward on his knees. He straddles Derek’s chest, weight precariously balanced as he braces himself against the headboard with both hands.

Derek’s grip is firm as he tilts Stiles’ hips down and forward and then he’s taking Stiles into his mouth, his tongue hot and demanding as it slides over Stiles’ clit— _dick_. When Derek sucks it into his mouth, Stiles lets out a long, shaky groan. He has to close his eyes as he struggles to regain some semblance of control, but it’s lost a second later, when Derek pulls back and laps at just the tip.

The first time they did something like this, it was with the strap-on Stiles had bought with the pack. It had been good. Weird, but good, and they had taken their time figuring out what worked for both of them. Stiles had never considered doing it this way, having Derek’s mouth actually on him like this, because it put Derek too close to the other part of Stiles, the part he still doesn’t like to acknowledge. Stiles hadn’t been so much worried that Derek would want to touch him there as he had been worried Derek would suddenly recall that Stiles isn’t quite complete yet. Which is stupid, because Derek has been going with Stiles to his therapy sessions at least once a month and he has even given Stiles his T shot on a a few occasions.

Stiles is pretty sure Derek has won all the ‘Most Amazing Boyfriend’ awards ever.

Derek tugs at Stiles’ hips until he’s putting more of his weight on Derek’s chest, and he gives himself over to the rhythm Derek has built up. There’s an almost inaudible snap, nearly lost in the beat of the music playing in the background, and Stiles doesn’t give it much thought until he feels one of Derek’s fingers sliding back between his cheeks, petting gently over his hole. He shivers with his whole body and his arms threaten to give out. He’d wondered, for a while, if things would ever progress beyond blowjobs and heavy make-out sessions, and maybe angsted over it for a few weeks until Scott—who has totally redeemed himself for those four months during which their friendship fell to the wayside and is now definitely up the Best Friend of the Year award—had to tell Stiles just to talk to Derek about it. They did, for which Stiles is eternally grateful because that means he’s not freaking out now, with Derek’s hand very deliberately touching Stiles’ _ass_.

The tip of Derek’s finger pushes in and it’s different. Stiles had been somewhat reluctant to touch himself there, and it had taken a good two weeks of staring at the purchases from the pack shopping trip and an embarrassing discussion with Danny before he worked up the nerve. Stiles has managed to work himself up to a small vibrator, but it’s always been just him, so having someone else touch him there is really strange. It's _Derek’s_ finger _in his ass_ , though, so all he can think is _more_.

He croaks it out even as he pushes back and Derek complies, withdrawing his finger and then sliding it back in with a second. There’s a slight sting with the stretch, but Derek is nothing if not generous with the lube and he’s going slow, pulling out, pushing back in with a twist, giving Stiles a chance to adapt. When he’s able to maintain a steady rhythm, Derek adds a third, and works them into Stiles with just as much care.

“Oh. Oh _fuck_!” Stiles gasps. His arms give out completely, but Derek catches him, shifts on the bed until he can pull Stiles in for a kiss even as he continues stretching him open.

“Let me try something?” Derek asks, and Stiles can only nod.

Derek pulls his fingers free once more and switches places with him, rolls Stiles onto his stomach, his hands hot against Stiles’ skin. He drags over two pillows and shoves them under Stiles’ stomach, rearranging him so that Stiles’ ass is up in the air and his face, bright red from the embarrassment of being so exposed, is pressed into the mattress.

“Man, what the fu—”

Stiles breaks off with a loud groan, hips jerking first away and then back into the press of Derek’s fingers. He’s sinking two back in, slow and steady and Stiles doesn’t think this can possibly look anything but _obscene_. He seriously cannot believe they are doing this, and just when he opens his mouth to say so, Derek takes it a step further.

Derek’s mouth is scalding hot as he drops open-mouthed kisses at the place where his fingers are buried deep inside Stiles. He licks around them and Stiles practically sobs under the onslaught of sensations. He’s heard about this—read about it, blushing the whole time—but he hadn’t thought it would be the same for him, that he would feel it so much. He can’t believe Derek made him wait until he was eighteen for this shit, either.

“I wanted you to have time to figure everything out in your head. I thought you’d use the time to explore,” Derek says, mumbling the words against Stiles’ skin.

“Oh my god, are you reading my mind?”

“No, you idiot.” Derek pulls back and Stiles twists to glare at him. “You just won’t shut up.” He leans in, swipes his tongue over the back of Stiles’ neck. “You don’t even realize you’re saying everything that crosses your mind.”

“Bite me, you—”

Derek’s free hand moves under him, rubs his thumb along the underside of Stiles’ dick and Stiles chokes on his words as he comes, body shaking, eyes squeezed shut tightly because he’s on overload. Derek groans against his neck, his fingers slick with come from where it’s dripping out of Stiles, and his cock pulses against Stiles’ cleft. Stiles, who is panting for breath, his body twitching as the last shocks of his orgasm die down, is slow returning to himself, but when he does, it’s to the _schlip-schlip_ sound he recognizes as Derek jerking off. Seconds later, something wet and warm splatters across his back, and wow. That’s Derek’s come.

The bed dips as Derek climbs off, disappearing down the hall to the bathroom, and Stiles is really glad his dad is working the late shift because he’s pretty sure Derek is walking around the house completely naked. When Derek returns, it’s with a wet washcloth to clean them both off with. That done, he manhandles Stiles onto his side and slides back onto the bed beside him.

The moment Derek lays down, Stiles is on him, sprawling out across his chest. He pokes at Derek a little, complaining. “You’re all hot. Like, werewolf hot. Not like, attractive hot so stop smirking.”

“You decided to lay down on me, not the other way around,” Derek points out. He pulls Stiles closer, pins him in place with one arm. “Not freaking out?”

“Not freaking out,” Stiles agrees. “It was—it was good.” He pushes up until he can look Derek in the eye, needing him to know, to understand. “Thank you.”

“Next time I’m gagging you.” Derek wolf-grins at Stiles’ outraged cry and yanks him down hard, kisses him with a force that leaves his mouth bruised and swollen. “Now shut up so we can sleep.”

They do.

~ * ~ * ~

Stiles is arse up in the air.

This part isn’t new. For the last three weeks, whenever Derek manages to get Stiles alone, he’s either like this or spread out on his back, Derek kneeling between his legs, fingers pressed deep inside. They’ve worked their way up to four fingers now, and Stiles is arching into the pressure, bearing down the way Derek’s taught him to. This part isn’t new, either, but what’s coming next is.

They’ve been building up to this, to Derek finally fucking Stiles and yeah, he’s still nervous as hell, but he trusts Derek. Stiles knows that all he has to do is say the word and Derek will stop and he won’t be angry. But Stiles wants this, wants to have Derek inside him. So when Derek pulls his fingers free and Stiles hears the telltale sound of the condom wrapper, a jolt of anticipation makes him shiver.

“Roll over,” Derek says with a tap to Stiles’ hip.

It takes effort to move, boneless as he’s feeling. Stiles already come twice and his body is still tingling from the aftershocks, so it’s more of a halfway flop than anything else. Derek rolls his eyes, grips Stiles by the hip with one hand and rubs his thumb in the groove there as he turns him the rest of the way.

“You need to eat more.”

“Dude, I already eat more than you and Scott put together. High metabolism.”

“Hm.” Derek braces himself on one arm, hooks the other under Stiles’ knee and settles himself into the space between Stiles’ thighs. “Keep it there,” Derek instructs, tugging Stiles’ leg into place.

Derek reaches down between them, fingers grazing over Stiles’ dick, making the muscles in his stomach tense and his thighs go tight. Derek tugs on it, his eyes hot on Stiles’ face, then he moves down the bed and leans in to suck on it. Stiles’ body arches up instinctively and he reaches down, tangles his fingers in Derek’s hair to hold him there while Stiles pumps his hips, suddenly desperate all over again.

It never stops feeling amazing, Derek’s mouth on him right there, but good as this might feel, Stiles is still looking forward to getting the bottom surgery. He wants to be more formed. Hopefully he’ll be longer and thicker; Derek has already detailed to him all the things he intends to do to Stiles’ dick regardless of its size. Stiles has been saving up since he was fourteen, adding to the fund his parents started when they realized this was the direction he was headed. It’s not going to happen anytime soon, but he’s okay with that for now.

“You ready?” Derek asks, mouthing the words against Stiles’ belly.

Stiles nods, hitches his leg up so he can pull Derek in close as he moves back into place and he watches through half-closed eyes as Derek’s gaze drops between them. He can feel the hot press of Derek’s dick against his ass and he groans a little, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.”

“I swear to god, Derek, if you don’t fuck me right now—”

Derek kisses him bruisingly hard with teeth that threaten to break skin, and then he’s pushing in. Stiles can feel the tension in Derek’s body, the fight to not just force his way in, and he’s really grateful because it hurts. It hurts perhaps a little more than Stiles anticipated, and while he doesn’t pull away, he does forget to bear down like they've talked about.

“Deep breath, Stiles,” Derek commands, but he doesn’t stop because Stiles hasn’t told him to. He keeps the pressure steady, pulling back and pushing in until their hips are flush together and Stiles is shaking. “Shh.” He grins, all straight, even white teeth and he brings up a hand to brush over the line of Stiles’ jaw. He goes still, eyes moving down, tracking the motion of his hand as he does it again and Derek lets out a husky laugh.

“What?” Stiles demands.

Derek meets his gaze head on, eyes bright and intense with only the tiniest bit of red bleeding through. His wolf is close to the surface. “You’re going to have to start shaving soon,” Derek replies, and leans in closer to bring their cheeks together.

Stiles gapes and goes to say something, because this has been the cause of angst, how long it’s taken for Stiles to get to this point. Derek chooses that moment to move though, withdrawing slightly and then pushing in fast. He isn’t gentle, but he’s not rough either, which means it’s just right. He does it again, and then again, and Stiles forgets all about stubble and shaving, and braces his feet on the bed so he can push up. The burn is still there, but there’s something else, too. A pressure he feels deep inside, like his body is reshaping itself to fit Derek. The idea should terrify him, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel like he belongs.

“Derek. Derek, shit, please. Please, I need—I need you to—want to feel it more.”

“Yeah. Yeah, hang on.”

He drops to his elbows and nudges in harder, gets a little deeper. It’s good, really fucking good, but it’s not enough. Stiles wants more, _needs_ more, and he knows he’s probably begging for it. A Stiles that is having sex with Derek is a Stiles who is utterly and completely without a brain-to-mouth filter. He would be embarrassed, but Derek told him once how much he likes it, likes that Stiles is so lost in pleasure that he can’t keep his mouth shut.

In a move that is ninja-fast, Derek pulls out and flips Stiles onto his stomach. He yanks him up by the hips, then plunges back in and this. _This_ is what Stiles has been wanting, what he’s been craving. His throat stops producing words, and he’s reduced to these broken, hoarse sounds, voice cracking continuously. He thinks maybe he could come from just this, without any other stimulation other than Derek’s dick in his ass, it feels that good.

Then Derek leans forward, sinks his teeth into Stiles’ shoulder at the same time that one of his hands slides down the length of Stiles’ body, capturing Stiles’ dick between his finger and thumb. He rubs at it, tugs just hard enough for it to hurt in a way Stiles wants to feel all the time, and _that_ sends him over the edge with a shout. His body goes tight and Derek growls. The teeth still clamped around Stiles’ flesh go deadly sharp and while they don’t release him, they ease up so as not to break skin.

Derek remains still while he waits out the clench-and-release of Stiles’ orgasm, but the moment Stiles begins to go lax, Derek is moving again, fucking in hard and fast. What little control he’s had all night is gone, but Stiles takes it. He’s sore and tired and wants nothing more than to sleep, but he can’t not have this, the feel of Derek still moving inside him, the knowledge that when Derek comes, it will be _because of Stiles_. For that, he can do this as long as Derek needs him to.

It isn’t too long before Derek grunts and goes still, letting go of Stiles with one hand—presumably to jerk himself off—claws on the hand prickling, though not piercing, Stiles’ skin. His hips start to jerk infinitesimally and Stiles suddenly wishes he could feel Derek coming. It’ll happen, one day, but Derek has explained that when they do, this thing between them will become a true mate-bond and while Stiles could probably still walk away, Derek cannot. So they’re waiting until Stiles is ready. Ready and sure.

After what feels like hours, Derek finally pulls out. He’s trying to be careful, but it still stings and Stiles can’t keep from letting out a soft hissed breath. A warm hand rubs over his lower back and then Derek is spreading him open, thumbs pressing gently where Stiles knows he’s still gaping. He grunts a little and tries to pull away, only to have Derek tighten his grip.

“Quit squirming, Stiles. I just want to make sure you didn’t tear.”

“Dude, you’re staring at my _ass_. It’s just weird. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m fine. Sore, but fine.”

He jolts a little when Derek nips at him, but then the hurt is soothed with a kiss and Derek is laying down next to him. They’ll have to get cleaned up and Stiles would like to pull on a pair of boxers because he’s still got a thing about being bottom-naked in front of Derek, but he allows himself this moment. Derek’s fingers touch the marks he left when he bit Stiles, pushing against them.

“Are you smirking?” Stiles mumbles into his pillow.

“I don’t smirk,” Derek replies, but there’s a smile, a _genuine_ smile, in his voice.

“Oh my god, you totally do. I bet even your _wolf_ smirks. In fact, I bet your wolf smirks _better_ than you.”

“Shut up.” Derek slumps against him and Stiles lets him, but only for a moment. Then he pokes at the bicep he can see out of the corner of his eye.

“Up, Wolfie.”

“I will kill you.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Up. I need to shower and then possibly eat something because being fucked by a werewolf is a serious workout and I need the energy reboot, and then we will sleep. We will sleep the sleep of the...I dunno, comatose or some shit. Now up, you barbarian.”

Derek stands and when Stiles follows suit, he’s pulled into Derek’s arms by the back of his neck. “Bad dog,” Stiles murmurs into the kiss and then he breaks away laughing when Derek’s fingers dig into his ribs. “For that, you’re sleeping on the porch!”

He lets Derek chase him all the way to the shower and when they get there, he turns the tables, shoves Derek up against the tile wall as the water beats down around them, sinks to his knees and mouths at the underside of Derek’s cock.

The upside to dating a werewolf is the amazing stamina. Stiles totally uses this to his advantage.


End file.
